His Eyes
by ResDes2
Summary: Edward gets Jacob in a bed, Things ensue. Not finished, don't worry. All human. Slash. Hot. Comment. Yeah.
1. Chapter 1

**All human. The idea came to me when I was bored and horny and wanting to fuck Taylor Lautner. My story. Only the characters were stolen. **

**POV=that annoying Edward kid every twelve-year-old-girl finds so attractive because he's "tortured" and "sparkles". You know what else does that? A diamond from Africa. Why don't you go fuck that?**

I had always wanted him. Despite what you may think. My petty hatred was the sad cliche wall I hid behind.

I know I spent many a lunch hour complaining about him. His stupidity. His roughness. His boring, blandish, stereotypical jock from high school. The one everyone fawns over, but in a couple years will be a faded memory. Forgotten in the haze as much as the wallflower in the corner of school dances.

In a word: forgettable.

I had always said that. At lunch. At football games. In class. Never to his face. Just to my friends. I had always said shit about him like that.

They thought I despised him. Wanted to never talk to him.

In reality, every time I thought of him, instead of wanting to spew hate, I wanted to spew lust. Don't get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing going on up there, but there is so much going on under his shirt, and from what I've been told, in his pants.

I take it because I know I have my flaws. I know I'm that pretentious "better-than-thou" snob loser who listens to indie bands and does nothing out of high school except complain, brag about going to shows and thinking "deeply". In reality, it's just another one of my shields. Most of my friends are considered emo. I find myself thinking about how inferior they are to me, but not compared to the rest of the world. I even get annoyed at myself sometimes, the things I think and say. It's ghastly.

To sum up myself: I write poetry. Anyone you know who writes poetry nowadays as a teenager is full of themselves and a loser. Me and all the whiney emo bitches.

But this is not about me slandering myself. No, this is about me and what I did to Jacob Black.

Whenever I thought of Jacob (which is a lot), to my friends I would complain about him and his idiocy. But in my brain, I would imagine him fucking the daylights out of me.

And my friends would be none the wiser. None of them knew I was gay. They all had suspicions, of course, but none of them were certain. Because if I told them, they would automatically treat me differently and my life would suck and to them, I would just be "the gay kid."

So I kept that and my lust for Jacob to myself. Labels are crap, anyway. I do not want people to have some pre-assumptions of me just because of my sexual preference. Even worse, I don't want them to like me even more just because I'm gay. "Aw, you're gay? Be my gay best friend!" I hated it. Just because I like cock does not automatically make me cooler or cuter. Treat me for me, not my preferences.

How I got in the predicament with Jacob Black in my bed is neither important or revelant. I just say that because I can't remember. But who fucking cares? This is for the sex, right? My little story. You're only listening because you want to hear all the gritty details about how I swallowed his cock in two of my orifices. It's understandable. I would do the same thing.

The only background you need is that I was in a bed (unmarked) with one Jacob Black (sober and fully clothed...for now) and that he and I have said possibly six things to each other. One of them being "Can you get my pen?"

So there I was, in this bed, and we were discussing life. And I was reading him like a book. I helped him with all his daddy issues, his hatred of his family, his problems in school, his anger at the world, all of it.

"It's like you can read my mind," he commented. I'm just not stupid while you are. All his problems were idiotic and unoriginal. I'd heard the suburban blather many a times that I could see each twist from a mile away. Going through the motions so many times, I knew exactly what to say.

And then we got to the best topic of the night: his sexuality.

"I haven't been with a girl in a long time," he complained. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. Everyone thinks I'm gay just because I haven't fucked a girl since freshman year. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's all just so...boring. You know? All the girls in our school. Exactly the same. Same boobs. Same body. Same brain. Same soul. Same...everything."

"Know how you feel."

"Why do they think I'm gay just because I haven't had a girlfriend in some time?"

"I don't know. It's a cruel world filled with gossipers and slanderers. We just gotta live and move on."

"I just...I don't know. I can't even jack off anymore. I used to go at least once a night. Now even my favorite magazines and my favorite porn stars all...just feel the same."

"I have a question: Have you tried opening up the field?"

He turned to me and stared at me, gawkingly, with those brownish black eyes of wonder. Like motionless waterfalls, he captured me in his wonderful gaze. Stagnant, but full of amazement. Like I had the answer to it all and he was tapping into it. "What do you mean?"

I decided to test my belief that everyone is somewhat bisexual. There is no black and white: only gray. Even I admit to sometimes finding the female body attractive, though hard muscle is my main desire. "I'm talking about...have you ever been with a guy?"

"That's...no! Never!"

"Why not? You're so bored with women, why not try another flavor?"

"Because...I don't know. It seems weird. I'm not gay."

"You don't have to be. You can be curious. Bisexual. You can like fucking a dude without having to be gay. Sex is sex. You should try it once."

"I don't know."

"Open your mind. Explore. Have fun. Try a new experience."

"Maybe."

"How would you feel if I kissed you?"

"I don't know..."

I slowly moved towards him and placed my hand onto his very chiseled chest. I could feel his heart pounding underneath me. He was in the palm of my hand. I had control over him. Complete control. I could feel the blood pounding from his chest to a lower region as his crotch woke up to the smell of sex. Being touched again? Finally! It's been so long. I'm ravenous. Give me something to fuck.

I could tell he was hesitant. His lips quivered, the short stubble on his upper lip moving slightly. His eyes were wide open, shifting from my eyes to my lips constantly. His button nose was inches from mine. We were close, I could feel that heat from him enter my body. That life. That manly boyish electricity and life.

It all stopped. The heart, the eyes, the blood, the everything. My lips touched his. For a moment. Barely any movement. But it felt heavenly. After so much wanting. After waiting so long. It finally happened. There. I had kissed the thing I had lusted over for so long.

Our lips parted, and he breathed again. His chest moved under my hand. His eyes slowly fluttered open again. Things began to move again.

I chuckled slightly, drunk with power and lust. I felt woozy. It was too phenomenal. And it was just a kiss. Much more was in store.

"Well..." I asked, "how was it?"

"..."


	2. Chapter 2

Before we continue on with this story, I felt it necessary to bring in some more past with the hunky man next to me.

My, sort of...sexual awakening, of sorts.

Oh, you want to hear his version? Why? It's boring and repetitive. I like girls. Maybe I don't like girls. Oh look, some sexually powerful (damn straight gays are sexually powerful. We're just more in touch with our cock-loving side) man is hitting on me. But I'm not gay. After fucking: I like cock now!

Oh, did I ruin the ending for you? Well, what does it matter. All these stories end the same way. It's just the sex you want anyway.

Don't expect some sort of twist. You're not getting one.

This is gossip, not Shakespeare. Just written in a slightly better and wittier form than most gossip.

ANYWAY...to get back on track, I guess I realized the moment I wanted Jacob was ninth grade. I knew I liked some form of man, but I wasn't sure what yet. All I knew was that the female body wasn't repulsive, it just wasn't intriguing.

It was PE class. I mean, it's PE. With sweaty jocks in hot gyms with nothing but skin tight underwear. You can't get more homoerotic than the gym.

But we were outside. It was a mile test or whatever. Run for a mile. Find out you're time. Feel bad about it on top of your exploding heart. A basic way for the government to tell you you're fat while they eat a cupcake. Insult to injury.

Mainly I kept a very steady and slow pace towards the back of the class and noone cared. Not even I. But I noticed Jacob was significantly more mature (bodily, not mentally, still dumb as a doorknob) than all the other guys. He had, dare I say it, muscles. And hair. And sweat. Oh, God, glorious sweat. It was astounding. His body glistening, his husky shoulders reflecting in the overbearing sun. Something in my crotch made my feet move faster. So I did. I went faster. And faster. I just wanted to keep staring at those shoulders. The blades moving slowly as he moved his arms back and forth. His legs jiggling as each touched earth, gracing it, his hefty muscles a surplus that some were not being used, just moving gracefully along with him.

I ended up with doing a seven minute mile. After the run, my heart kept pounding with the same intensity. While I watched him change through the corner of my eye. I was so inconspicuous back then, I'm surprised they didn't pound me for staring at his gloriously (and already defined) abs.

After that, he was all I could think about. I never really put my full self into school, so I would always end up in his classes. Each class with him, most of my blood would flow down to my lower half. Each night I would find myself rubbing yet another one out, making up all of these fantasies, coming into a towel I had to wash each week. I called it the Black towel because I would always imagine him while I jizzed on it and also, after each session I would feel a little black for doing this and never actually having the balls to fuck him. My balls were spent, anyway.

Eventually we became close. Yes, I lied earlier to make it sound like he had fallen in love with this random stranger. That never happens; it just sounds cool. In fact, we had said things to each other before. We became acquaintances, and in science we would sit next to each other. Not as friends, as in there were no seats left and the one next to him was for some reason open. Maybe he did secretly want me. I don't know. Whatever.

But when we sat together, especially early in the year, when shorts were still acceptable. he would rub his leg against mine. His hairy, gorgeous leg. The hand-crafted adonis leg, made for worship and for some special athletics. Pure man. His hairy leg, which was soft and fluffy and warm and safe would rub up against mine. And he emanated warmth. It was wonderful. Just this leg touch would make my day...and my nights.

And then we eventually got put together to do a science project.

And then eventually we ended up on my bed, first discussing the project.

And then life.

And then kiss.

And then the kiss ended.

And here we are again.

**I promise, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE THE SEX AND IT WILL BE OVER. Just wanted the cuteness, you know?**

**Longest oneshot EVER! Though not really a oneshot anymore. **


End file.
